


Whatever Will Be

by AllThatMatters



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gay, Love, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:28:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24869131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllThatMatters/pseuds/AllThatMatters
Summary: This is an alternate ending to Season 10, episode 9, when Ian goes to talk to Mickey and give him the promise ring. There was something about that scene that I always wished I could change, so I did! This is short - only two pages - and gives me everything I truly wanted from that scene between our beautiful boys.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 15
Kudos: 195





	Whatever Will Be

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write something short, sweet, and give myself the satisfaction of re-writing a scene that broke my heart and should have gone differently. (This is of course my own opinion!) I hope you enjoy.

“How do you know you love me, huh?” Ian asked, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. Mickey stopped in the doorway, turning back at his words. “How do you _really_ know?” Ian shuffled towards him, his crutches seeming so loud amongst all the silent things unsaid. “I’m bipolar, right? I don’t know who I am from one day to the next, and I can’t guarantee shit so, why do you want to spend the rest of your life with me? Are _you_ fucking crazy? I mean, who else have you dated?”

Mickey’s jaw tightened at this, more so at Ian’s mistaken belief that being bipolar made him crazy than anything else.

“I’ve dated plenty of peop…”

“No no no no no, not fucked,” Ian interrupted. “Dated. Been in love with. How could you possibly know that me, that, that this, all of me, all the fuckin’ versions I am, how do you know that that’s what you want to spend the rest of your life with?” Ian’s voice broke, unable to hold back his sadness any longer; but there it was – everything he feared laid out in front of Mickey, and he could take from it what he would. It wasn’t that he didn’t love him enough now, like Mickey said, it was that he loved him so goddam much that he was afraid he would never actually be good enough.

How _could_ anyone want to be with him forever, knowing that every day was a coin toss they may not always win.

“You’re honestly asking me how I know?” Mickey spat, stepping back down onto the sidewalk; he was annoyed, but more than that, he was confused; how could Ian of all people be questioning his love? His loyalty? After fucking everything. “I told you once,” Mickey continued, glancing away into the street as if looking Ian in the eye might stop him from saying all he was about to. “That not everybody gets to blurt out how they fucking feel every minute.”

Ian looked at him, his lips pressing together as a tear rolled down his cheek; he had always been the open one, forever taking for granted that he had had that luxury after growing up in the life he was given; but Mickey, Mickey had never been that lucky.

“I remember,” Ian admitted, looking away as he recalled Mickey’s wedding day, and just how badly at the time he’d wished it was him at the end of that aisle and not Svetlana; but time – they both knew – had a way of changing things. “That was at your first wedding…”

“ _First!?_ Mickey scoffed, laughing sarcastically at the word. Ian realized too late it had probably been the wrong word to use, considering he was fighting for reasons why not to have a second.

“You know what I mean, Mickey…”

“No no, that’s good,” Mickey said, stepping back a little as he glanced at the sky, as if his anger were building and he was trying his best not to blow. “Let’s talk numbers.”

“What?”

“Two – ” Mickey said, no hesitation, and his voice was no longer unsure. “That’s the number of times I went to juvie for you.”

“Mickey, I don’t need…”

“Two – ” he continued, ignoring Ian’s attempt at reasoning – he had listened long enough, and now it was his turn to talk. “The number of times my own father beat my ass because of you. Two – the number of times I’ve gone to prison for you. Two – the number of times I’ve been shot because of you…”

“Mickey, please.” Ian tried to stop him, his chest tightening as the tears blurred his sight so badly that Mickey looked simply like a beautiful shape of colours.

“Three – ” Mickey kept going, too far gone now to stop. Giving in, Ian finally just let him, and every word was like a knife twisting within him. “The number of times you’ve broken my fucking heart. A thousand – the number of second chances I’ve given you.” Mickey paused, composing himself as if the hardest part were still to come. “One – the number of people I’ve loved in this life. One – the number of seconds it takes for me to remember how many bad things I’d still do for you when I see your face, when I hear your voice.” Mickey sniffed loudly, as if he, too, was going to break; but he didn’t, and his voice only trembled the smallest bit as he finished. “So don’t stand here and ask me – of all fucking people, Ian – how I know that I love you. Because I know, okay? I’ve always fucking known.”

Mickey took a deep breath then, and it hitched in his throat as he rubbed his hands over his face, as if ten years of everything he had ever wanted to say had finally left him, and he was free.

Ian just stared at him; tears flowing down between his parted lips as the glare from the headlights of a passing car danced over Mickey’s beautiful face, and all at once the love he had was all-consuming – the sudden feeling clawing its way within him as the realization of Mickey’s own truth sunk deep, deep into his soul. Mickey _had_ always been there – before, during, and now after – and he _still_ loved him, to a degree which Ian only now realized he would never be able to fathom. Of course he had never doubted it – had only doubted himself – but hearing those words – words so long overdue and precious – come from the mouth of the man he loved, made any doubt he had fall away like their shadows on the sidewalk as these cars passed them in the night.

“Marry me,” Ian said then, without a thought, and he meant it – _this_ time, he meant it. He meant it with every fiber and cell of his being – every fiber and cell of his being that belonged to Mickey Milkovich, that called out for him in dreaming when he wasn’t there, that electrified him and sent shockwaves throughout his psyche when he touched him, that calmed themselves into peaceful quiet when Mickey said his name.

It _was_ Mickey.

It had _always_ been Mickey.

“No,” Mickey replied suddenly, and Ian’s heart nearly stopped beating before he saw the small smile pull up the edges of those lips he wanted so badly to touch, to kiss, to taste every day for the rest of his life. “Get on your knees, bitch.”

Ian smiled, a smile so genuinely full of happiness that he knew that after this moment, it would never quite go away, like the happiness was tattooed on his heart, just like his name was on Mickey’s.

Setting his crutches aside, he knelt down, pulling the ring from around his neck before tearing the rope it was on, and sliding it off.

“Mickey Milkovich,” he said, kissing the ring that had been his before glancing upwards, and for the first time in his entire life, Ian was absolutely certain of _something_. “Infinity,” he said simply and left it at that.

“What?” Mickey asked, a small chuckle escaping his lips as he looked down into the eyes of the man he’d give it all for.

“Infinity,” Ian repeated, grabbing onto Mickey’s hand and sliding the ring onto his finger. “That’s the number of days I want to spend with you. The number of kisses I want to give you. The number of times I want to tell you just how much I’ve loved you. The number of lifetimes I want to live with you…”

“Okay, Jesus,” Mickey interrupted, and his own smile outshone Ian’s; he grabbed Ian’s collar, helping him stand before looking up into those eyes that had haunted his thoughts for so long. “I’ll marry you,” he admitted, and it was the easiest decision of his life. “Of course I’ll fucking marry you.”

Their mouths came together then – unwavering, unflinching – and everything they had known or ever will know was shared between them, their breath seeping into each other’s lungs, through their blood, making their hearts beat truly for each other.

Ian took the other ring that was still hot in his hand – the one that had been meant for Mickey – and he slipped it onto his finger, where he knew it would stay until Mickey’s heart stopped beating within his very own chest.

And maybe even then…


End file.
